They're Never Coming Back
by Topaz Fox
Summary: 10 year old Alice sees a bloody dream and knows that her village's caravanners are dead. Can one young Clavat girl save a doomed town? Can she save herself? Previously titled Tida's White Rabbit.
1. Chapter 1

(Hello! This is Topaz. This fic is a rather depressing thing, so the weak of heart need not continue. This was originally going to be an one-shot, but somehow it mutated into something bigger. Hope you like it! -Topaz Fox)

(**Disclaimer--**I don't own Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles or any of its plots/characters or anything else.)

The dark was there, full as ever, and with it came the pain. The sharpness…the ten thousand needles, the daggers, the slow suffocation…everything. More pressure, more unseen spear points, until it seemed like everything would explode. Then, finally, the blood; the sickening warmth and the bitter smell, the red sea of death. Now there were just the bodies, scattered by the road or on the hill or somewhere near. Now…the promise of more dead bodies yet to come.

I woke up screaming and sweaty. Three words throbbed like a hammer into my skull. _They. Are. Dead._

I knew that if they were dead, we would soon be dead too.

On that bleakest night of nights, I shot upstairs to my parents' room. "Mother! Father!" I practically shouted. I heard a rustling of sheets, and then my mother's face was illuminated as she lit an oil lamp.

"What is it, Alice, honey?" she muttered. I could tell she was angry, but this was _important_. I rushed over to her side of the bed and jumped up and down urgently. "Mother, they're dead! They're dead!" I was honestly about to cry, even though I was ten and too old for such things.

My mother was suddenly alert. "Who's dead?"

"The caravanners! They're dead; they got killed. They're not coming back! Our Crystal's gonna fade! We have to go tell Clernoc!" Clernoc was Tida's elder, and he had a soft spot for me. I knew—I _hoped_—that he, of all people, would believe a young Clavat like me.

My father was awake now as well. "How do you know that they're dead, Alice?"

"I saw it in a dream! Oh, you _have _to believe me!"

But they didn't. They tried to comfort me, telling me it was just a bad dream, and then sent me back to bed. I couldn't sleep that whole night, for fear that another terrible nightmare would haunt my sleeping mind.

At last, morning came. Not long after the sun had come up, I threw on a simple cotton dress and shouted to my parents that I was going out for a while. Honestly, I didn't know if they were awake or not. I dashed outside into the bright sunlight and skittered up the road to Clernoc's house.

I banged my small fists against the round wooden door. Norma, Clernoc's wife, answered my frantic call. "Oh, it's Alice," she said in her grandmotherly way. "Come on in, dear."

Despite the urgent situation, I tried my best to be polite. "Thank you, ma'am. Um…where's Clernoc?" She smiled obliviously. "He's upstairs, I think."

Up the stairs I flew, until I reached the door that I knew to be Clernoc's room. I tapped three times on the wood. "Come in," said a familiar withered voice. I didn't need a second invitation. Without hesitation, I swung open the door and wheeled inside.

There was Clernoc, sitting placidly at his desk and writing what appeared to be a letter. I edged my way up to his desk. He turned to face me. "Ah, Alice. What seems to be the matter?" I told him what I had seen in a single, fearful breath.

Clernoc's brow furrowed with worry. I almost rejoiced inside. I knew he'd believe me! "Alice…" he started, then paused. "Alice, perhaps the things you saw were just a dream. The may have been scary and lifelike, but the imagination can play cruel tricks on us sometimes." He winked and smiled. "The caravan is due back tomorrow," he said, smiling. "Let us wait for their return." With that, I was ushered out of the house by Norma.

The day seemed to plod by slower than a papaopamus with three legs. Every now and again, I would get the urge to jump up and shout a warning to the people of my town. _Tida's caravan is not coming back. Our Crystal is already fading. We have to go NOW. Pack your things, get ready, do something! _But that would be, of course, a useless endeavor. I watched with frustration as everyone chattered happily about the caravan's return.

Darkness fell. I might have slept a little, but for the most part, I remained awake, hunched under my blanket and quivering with fright. I had a lot of time to think, even if my thoughts were crowded with the demons some call nightmares. I thought about how no one would believe a little Clavat's terrible, prophetic dream. I knew the dream was real. I _knew _it. But anyone I would try to tell would probably say, "Don't worry, young one," or "I'm sure it was only a dream." If I had been an elder, or even a wise Yuke, everyone would have flown into action. Why did I have to be the receiver of that dream?

All I could do now was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

(Greetings! Topaz again. Thisfairly depressing chapter is a lot longer than the first one was. I think there'll only be one more chapter after this. Any reviews would be much appreciated! -Topaz Fox)

The next day came, and instead of sun, it brought rain. It was actually more like a thin, depressing drizzle, the kind you can't hear tapping on the roof. You couldn't see it, either; the only way to know it was there at all was to step outside and feel it mist clammily against your skin.

I was in terrible spirits. My frantic fear had just shut itself up and withdrawn deep inside of me. My mind was in chaos, but my outside could only manage gloom. My parents, being adults, probably assumed that I was sad because of the bad weather. They couldn't have been more wrong. I decided to dress in black that day, to secretly mourn the death of the caravanners…and of their village.

Everyone else in Tida was happy, though. As I walked with my mother down Market Street, I was aware of lots of cheerful talk and whistling. Every man, woman and child was abuzz with the news of the caravan's return. There was not a single unhappy face in town.

I was the only one who knew what was coming.

We passed Tida's beautiful Crystal. Two strong Lilties boys were helping Clernoc set up decorations for the night's supposed events. They were arranging a huge tarp on four wooden poles over the Crystal, then setting up colorful banners underneath the tarp. I heard Clernoc say, "It'll take more than a little rain to stop this festival."

More than a little rain, indeed.

My mother was in such a good mood, she allowed me to buy a pastry from the baker's stall. Usually this would have made me a delighted little girl. Because of my dark attitude, I almost declined her offer, but thought to myself that it might be my last ever Tida-made treat. That alone made me want to cry, but I selected a little cherry pie and ate it on my way home. With every bite, I felt a bit of pain for my poor, oblivious friends and family.

Back at home, I moped around for hours, sitting in my room and sighing. The indifferent gray that covered the sky turned to black as night approached again. My mother made a delicious dinner of baked striped apples, roast meat, and boiled star carrots, her traditional "caravan feast". I found it hard to swallow the whole meal. My parents peered at me more than once for eating so little.

The festival loomed. I was so reluctant to go; it left a bitter taste in my mouth. A bitter, bloody taste. It was like I could smell fear and pain, like wolves can. My parents, of course, were pleasantly unaware of my suffering. They forced me to march into the dreary rainfall outside. For a moment I thought that my dream might really have been nonsense. The shadow of my conscience told me to stop fooling around; my premonition was real. A terrible cold grip squeezed my insides, and I felt increasingly sick, knowing with every step that there would never be another festival.

A crowd had gathered under the tarp. Because I was shorter than most, everybody ended up towering over me. I felt like I was trapped in a great big wall of flesh. The word flesh made me think of blood and death, and I felt suddenly claustrophobic. I tried pawing pitifully at people, to get them to move aside, but nothing happened. Finally, I clung to my father and waited for what I knew would never come.

Clernoc sent two "sentries" to the town gate to wait for the caravan's return. The two chosen ones dashed off into the blind night, leaving the rest of us to wait. Most people tried to contain their excitement.

I tried to contain my fear.

So we waited for the sentries to come running back with the good news. We waited…and waited…and waited some more. Minutes turned to hours. Hours spanned greater and greater in number. One hour. Two. Three. Four. Everybody was kind of nervous, but still idiotically faithful that the caravanners would come. Their loyalty amazed me.

But loyalty did not decide the events of this night. It was past midnight by the time we all returned, damp and tired, to our own houses. Clernoc had said, "Fear not, citizens: our brave myrrh gatherers have undoubtedly just been delayed." _Yeah, I'd say they've been delayed, _I wanted to shout. But I kept my mouth shut. Clernoc told us to never lose hope, and then sent us home.

Everyone "knew" the caravanners would return the next night. But they didn't.

They didn't return that night…or the next…or the next. A week of false hope fell away. Two weeks. Three.

Our Crystal was fading now. It didn't give off the refreshing glow it once had. Its rough, pretty edges seemed rounder, and when I looked at it, it was a little blurry. It was turning grayer and grayer, and the fact that it was dying was plain as day. The Miasma was encircling us more every day.

Each day, it was getting harder to live comfortably. I always had a sharp pain in the back of my brain now, and I had to think about breathing in order to do it successfully. It was like my lungs were being compressed smaller and smaller every time the sun rose. Sleep eluded me, and I learned to live with only a few hours of it each night. I became a zombie, a ghost of what I had once been.

My neighbors were that way, too. They were happy enough, I guess, but they all wore the same foggy expressions on their faces. I noticed that everyone was complaining about headaches and memory loss, and people started to slur their words, like they were tired or drunk. We were all dying with our Crystal.

Still, Tida kept hoping.

One morning, I woke up blind. I screamed. I heard someone rush into my room and open the door. It was my mother.

"Alice! Baby, what's wrong?"

I burst into tears. "Mommy, I can't see! I can't see! I'm going to die!"

Warm, loving arms wrapped their way around my aching body. "Shh," cooed my mother. "It'll be okay. You're going to be fine. Shh."

She rubbed my back until I quieted down. My sight gradually returned to me, making me somewhat calmer. I said that I was better, that my mother could leave now, but she stayed. I was happy that she remained there holding me in the morning's semi-darkness, but the ever-present presence of future death made me feel ill. Little knots twisted in my throat, and I felt a gaping pain in my stomach…both symptoms of fright.

"Mother?" I whispered. I looked up at her like a calf before the slaughter. She smiled sadly. "Yes?"

"We're all going to die soon, aren't we?"

At first, my mother looked very, very tired, like she might collapse. For the first time, I realized that I wasn't the only one _really_ feeling the effects of the dreadful Miasma. Everyone else was feeling them too, just as greatly as I was.

Then my mother's certain fatigue was masked by a steely glint in her eyes. I knew that glint well enough. It was the sparkle of determination. It's kind of astounding that there can be determination in even a dying woman's eyes.

"No," my mother said firmly, "We're not going to die, honey. The caravanners will come back in time to save us all."

There was one shining moment when I believed my mother. I believed everything was going to be okay. Then the clarity of that terrible dream came back to me in full. I remembered the dark and the pain, the blood and the bodies, the awful smell of rotting death…

I knew that my mother's views, the views of everyone in Tipa, were just an illusion.

Somehow, though, nobody would believe me when I told them so. It was like I was invisible because I was young. Nobody would believe me about anything, especially not death or destruction. I guess…I guess that's just the way the world works. I could do nothing…not even save my own family.

But at that moment, in my mother's weakening arms, I knew that I _could_ save myself. And that's exactly what I had to do.


	3. Chapter 3

(Topaz says: Okay, I lied. This isn't the last chapter after all. Still one more to go! I would seriously love some comments...oh well. Enjoy! -Topaz Fox)

I didn't sleep at all that night. Long after my parents had gone to bed, I rose and lit a single candle that I always kept on my bedside table. I slipped on a moonlight-colored cotton dress and some leather moccasins. I took my burlap shoulder bag from my bedpost and crept to the kitchen, silent as a spider. Once there, I took all the food that would fit into my bag—two striped apples and some dried meat—and prepared to leave.

My heart was so full of sorrow, it felt like it had swollen up like a sponge. I could barely move. Before I left my home for the last time, I dashed quietly back into my room and took one more important thing: a silver hair clip my mother had given me last year. I fingered the tiny, plump rosebuds carved into the silver and tucked the clip into my bag. The last thing I did was scrawl a hurried note to my parents.

_Dear Mother and Father: I'm leaving now. I saw our caravanners die in a dream, and I know they really did die, because now our whole town is dying too. Nobody believed my dream, and look what happened. I don't wanna stay here anymore. I love you both so, so, so much. I love you more than anything. Run away from here if you can. Love, Alice._

With one final look behind me, I left my cozy little home, never to return. There was one more thing to do before I could run away. Honestly, I didn't even know if it was possible, but my life did depend on it, so I decided to give it a shot.

I stood before Tida's withering Crystal. I had heard it was completely indestructable. I hoped with all my might that that wasn't true.

There was a sharp rock lying on the ground near the Crystal. I picked it up and put its razor-like edge up against the Crystal itself. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and prayed fervently to anyone, anything that would listen to a little girl. Everything, all my strength and hope and fury, was channeled into that little rock. Time…slowed, somehow. With one bold motion, I slammed the rock forward.

As soon as I did so, I dared to open my eyes. I watched in awe as a tiny chip of sickly-colored Crystal flew through the air and landed with a _chk _on the ground. I had done it.

I had created my own personal Crystal.

Quickly, I tied the Crystal shard around my neck with a piece of thread I pulled from the hem of my dress. As soon as the Crystal touched my skin, I felt the relief of a summer storm wash over me. I hoped its waning power was enough to protect me from the raging Miasma in the outside world.

I didn't want to linger any longer. I flat-out sprinted to the town gate and looked up briefly just long enough to read the words, "Welcome to Tida, the Sunniest Village Around!" I bit back tears and ran away, away into the real world, where there were no sunny villages.

The darkness of the night seemed thicker than in Tida. It pressed down on me, threatening to crush me into the dust on the road. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. It was like the air was ink, the sky was ink, the ground was ink. I had set out, on foot, to navigate some massive ink spill? Shuddering in the harsh cold, I came to the conclusion that I should have at least taken a village papaopamus to ride. My escape plan had been kind of…stupid.

But at least I had escaped at all.

This was the only thought that kept me going through that long hike in the blackness. I tried to keep to the path. Demon noises slithered all around me, keeping me alert. I had never been so afraid as on that night.

Everything wavered, like a mirage. I felt the Miasma penetrating my bubble of Crystal protection. Pain numbed my feet and my hands, and after a few more steps, I sank to my knees. After all this, was I going to die anyway?

That's all I remember thinking as I blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4

(Hey! Topaz once again. Augh...finally...DONE! Sorry I haven't updated in so long...midterms...blaagh. Tell me what you think of the story now it's done! -Topaz Fox)

"What is it?"

"Ack, a Clavat! It's a Clavat kid!"

"I think it's dead, kupo."

I became dully aware of voices floating over my head. Oh, my head…it ached so much, I was sure it had split open or something. What had happened? Where was I…?

"You sure it's dead, Berculane?

"Move aside, all of you! This little one needs our help!"

The voices above me lowered to grumbles. One muttered, "Mur Kiah, it's a Clavat. Leave it…No! Don't do that!" I felt myself being lifted by two strong, sweet-smelling arms. I was being hugged against someone now. It was so wonderfully warm, and everything smelled vaguely of cloves. I felt no pain at all. Was I dead?

"She's still breathing! We're not too late!" A woman's voice. The voice came from whoever it was hugging me, and it was sounded sharply melodic, sort of like violins. I pictured a violin embracing me tightly. I couldn't think clearly. Had a musical instrument rescued me?

Fur brushed against my cheek. "Kupo! Wake up now!" I opened my eyes and shrieked. Hovering before me was a bizarre little ball of ivory-colored fluff with a face. It had pointed ears, tiny leathery wings, and appeared to be quite armless. Armless, as in without any sign of arms or hands at all. It had to be the strangest little enigma I'd ever laid eyes on. I wonderingly reached out and touched the red pom-pom dangling from its head, and it shook itself and recoiled.

The weird fuzzy thing snorted. "What? Haven't you ever seen a moogle before, kupo?" I heard laughter from somewhere around me, and became suddenly aware of my surroundings. I saw three shockingly handsome young men, all in strange clothes and with lean muscles. The tallest one had shortish hair the color of grass and big, mischievous eyes. The second tallest was quite plain, with muddy hair and muddier eyes. The shortest of the three was a compact and beautiful creature, barely more than a boy, with long platinum-blue hair and eyes that looked like they belonged to a wolf.

I looked up carefully at the one who was holding me and gasped. Never had I seen someone who looked more like an angel. Her face was fine-featured, yet powerful. She wore dark tights with patterns cut into them; a short, assymetrical pleated skirt; and a shameless, strapless top that showed a well-toned midsection. She had stunning mistake-black hair that was loosely braided in some areas. Her eyes, however, were the most breathtaking of all. They sparkled different colors as the light hit them, sort of like butterfly wings.

People this lithe, this untamed…they couldn't have been Clavats, although they looked sort of like us. I remembered reading about people like this once. They were called Selkies.

The amazing girl grinned and smothered me in a hug. "Oh, good! You're all right! We thought you were dead there for a while. Are you all alone? Are you…an orphan?" Orphan. I guess…I guess I was one now. I nodded slowly. "I _knew _it. It's okay, though, sweetie. We'll take care of you."

The green-haired one's eyebrows shot up. "We…will?"

"Of course. We can't just leave her to die."

"Where will we take her?" cut in the plain one. "None of our friends or family will accept…" He gulped. "Accept a _Clavat_." I was puzzled. Why not?

A gaze from the wolf-eyed boy grabbed my attention. He smiled. "What's your name, young one?" "Alice," I said timidly.

"Where do you come from, Alice?"

"Tida."

Tremors of shock reverberated through the Selkies' eyes. "Tida," muttered the girl that held me. "Tida was…do you know what happened to it?" I shook my head no, even though I did know. I just wanted to verify my assumption. The girl cast her eyes down.

"Tida was destroyed. They say that something happened to their caravanners. For some reason, the villagers didn't send out an extra caravan or a search party or even try to escape. They just…died when their Crystal did. Is that what really happened? Does that sound familiar to you?"

No speech came. I could only nod as one, two tears, pure and hot, zigzagged down my cheeks. I had known this was going to happen. Why was I crying?

I felt so confused. I had no loved ones left alive and knew nothing of the outside world. Maybe…I would have been better off dead.

"Oh, baby…don't cry…shh…it's okay…" The Selkie girl was cradling me now, just like my mother used to. More silvery tears trickled down my face. I gasped a little and began to sob into her shoulder.

The young men around us stifled themselves in an awkward silence. I just went on crying into her shoulder, letting my tears soak into her smooth skin, until I heard a tiny voice over my shoulder.

"Kupo! Don't cry!"

It was, needless to say, the moogle. It had perched on top of the plain boy's head and appeared to be performing some sort of dance. It hopped up and down and twirled around and around, causing its red pom-pom to jiggle about. The Selkie boy tried to shake the moogle away. "Ouch! Hey, cut it out!" I stopped crying and watched the silly spectacle, and for the first time in weeks, I began to laugh.

The Selkie girl smiled. "Nice going, Berculane," she said softly. The moogle took a little mock bow. "Anytime, kupo."

Sensing that I felt better, the Selkie girl grinned down at me. "Alice, allow me to introduce you to my crazy friends here." She gestured toward the green-haired boy and said, "This is Tre Gat. He's the tricky one." Tre Gat winked. The girl pointed at the brown-eyed one. "That's Lor Thek, the boring one." She snickered at Lor Thek's agitation. "I'm not boring!" he protested. "I'm just…mild." The moogle flew down and hovered at eye level. "I'm Berculane," he chirped. "Nice to meet you." Next, the Selkie girl took the longhaired boy by the shoulder. "This here is my own little brother, Orys Re. He's the baby. Only thirteen years old, can you believe it?" Orys Re gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine. Maybe it was just his gorgeous eyes, but something in that gaze seemed to…give me a weird kind of hope. For the future, and for life in general.

The Selkie girl sat down on the ground and pulled me down with her, so we could both look each other in the eye. "Most importantly," she said, "I'm Mur Kiah. Alice, if you don't mind, we want to give you a name like ours. A Selkie name."

"What? Why?"

"We can't…keep you with us. We're caravanners, and it's dangerous to have a little girl hanging around with us. You might get hurt. We need to find you a home, you see, and none of ours friends would accept a Clavat." She blinked at the befuddled expression on my face. "Oh…you don't know about the war, do you. You see, the Clavats and the Selkies have been fighting for almost a year now, and obviously, our friends are Selkies. Narrow-minded Selkies, may I add. Anyway, if we pretend like you're not a Clavat, we can get you a home. What do you say?" I didn't really have a choice. I said I was okay with the idea, and my transformation began.

The whole caravan sat down on the ground and argued over a name for me. Tre Gat crossed his arms over his chest. "How about Kre Zia?"

"Are you kidding? Much too rough."

"Van Cara is good."

"That's a terrible name!"

"How about…Fresialla?"

"Berculane! We don't need moogle names!"

The conversation went on in this manner for half an hour. At last, Orys Re, who hadn't said anything yet, piped up. "Mina Lyr."

Everyone was quiet. The name resonated with everyone, even me. Mur Kiah beamed. "I like it. What say you, Alice?"

I looked at Orys Re. His eyes were wide and smiling, watching me. I nodded at him. "I think it's a really pretty name."

"Perfect!" declared Tre Gat. "Mysterious, innocent, mellifluous…it's perfect."

"Melliflu-what?"

"Never mind! It's good, okay?"

And that is how I gained my Selkie name.

With my name in order, the next thing to do was find me a place to live. Another argument ensued. What about Leuda, the hometown of the caravanners? No, too far away, and too risky. Where else was there, then, that was nearby? I remained silent through the whole thing, wondering to myself if any place would ever be as good a home as Tida was.

Mur Kiah suddenly remembered an aunt and uncle of hers living in Alfitaria, the Lilty city, one of the few remaining neutral territories. She said it would be good for me to grow up surrounded by people, peace and pleasure. "The three Ps," she said, finding herself rather clever. On top of that, Alfitaria was but a short distance away. Thus, my new home was planned out.

Before we set off, I had to be visually transformed. Mur Kiah brought me into her group's caravan. I marveled at the ornate interior of the thing. Cushy red velvet and gold thread decorated everything in sight. I gawked at a Crystal Chalice sitting in the center of the room, half-full of myrrh and glowing with a divine blue light.

Mur Kiah threw open a wooden door and showed me at least ten exotic, skimpy outfits. She pulled out one that she said was too small: a tiny black tube top with the Selkie emblem embroidered in silver; a short, jagged skirt quite similar to the one Mur Kiah was wearing; and sandals, which looked like they could actually fit my little feet.

I dressed quickly and was then told by Mur Kiah to take a seat. I eased myself onto a luxurious red velvet couch and was perplexed and a little scared when my new Selkie friend approached me with a knife.

"What are you going to do?" I whispered. Mur Kiah saw the terrified look on my face, threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, you silly! I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I'm just cutting your hair." To my slight horror, Mur Kiah stood behind me and chopped my honey blonde hair quite short. She then proceeded to twist the uneven locks into an updo that fanned out from behind my head, like a peacock's tail. For a finishing touch, she smeared a bit of glittery makeup over each of my eyes.

There was a tall mirror in the corner of the caravan. I glanced into it and saw a reflection I was far from familiar with. A girl wearing almost nothing (yet a very stylish nothing), with _pretty _hair and a _pretty _face; an exotic…beauty, or a beauty yet to be. I was shocked. I didn't see a plain farm girl in the mirror anymore, and that scared me a little.

But…it was exciting.

I was ushered outside and displayed to the three Selkie boys. "Wow, what a change," breathed Tre Gat. "Not bad at all," said Lor Thek, grinning. Orys Re said nothing. He only smiled at me like he knew something I didn't.

Everything was in order. I was ready to go to my new home.

Our trek to Alfitaria was a happy one. I got to learn lots about the Selkie race, which was totally necessary, seeing as I was about to become one. My four new Selkie friends, and even funny little Berculane, told amazing stories about their homelands and their lives. I knew that they might have only been being so friendly because I had just lost everything. That didn't bother me, though, for some reason.

The Selkies seemed fake sometimes…all except for Orys Re. He would ask me things about my home when nobody else was listening. He didn't avoid the topic like the others did. I told him about everything: our house, our neighbors, the cheerful marketplace, my mother's cooking, the way the sunrise would burn up from behind the buildings like they were on fire. I even told him a bit about those last few painful days in Tida. Once, I started crying, but he didn't mind. He comforted me, and I was more than grateful.

Finally, we arrived in Alfitaria. I was taken through the grand city and introduced to my new "parents". They seemed like nice enough folks, but I dreaded to think of how they might have reacted if they had ever been told I was a Clavat. I guess I was a pretty convincing Selkie, though, because they accepted me.

I lived an exciting city life. Each day brought a new adventure, a new drama. I enjoyed the ever-twisting plot of my life; nothing fun had ever really happened in Tida. I never stopped missing my old family and friends, though. Oftentimes, I would cry myself to sleep, wondering what would have happened if they had just listened to me.

There were some bad times, but my life was mostly good. Surprisingly, I matured into a Selkie, not a Clavat: I grew into a toned yet curvy body, and my face became delicate and lovely. I learned to be agile in work and play. The only way I could have been more of a Selkie was to have actual Selkie blood running in my veins.

Time passed. The Clavat-Selkie war eventually ended. I went from child to woman, raised lovingly by my foster parents. My caravan friends who had rescued me came for occasional visits.

On one of those visits, Orys Re proposed to me. We were married quickly, and settled down in a small house in Alfitaria. We had two beautiful children, named Plo Kris and Yila Nena, hybrid children who never knew their true heritage. Together, our life was a happy one.

Now Orys Re and I live alone. Our children have long since moved away to start families of their own. Many, many years have passed since I was a little girl living in Tida. In all this time, I have never seen anyone else from that town. I was the only one who escaped.

I once heard someone say that Tida had produced no survivors. Go to Alfitaria, if you can. If you ever see an old Selkie woman there, hobbling about like she has been places never imagined, and if it looks to you like her life is more than meets the eye, then you will know that Tida produced one survivor, at least.

I survived. And that, as the say, is that.

-Fin-


End file.
